The Guilty Party
by Degonda
Summary: How could something so normal do so much damage to the Winchesters? Ch. 6 is up and yes, I know it's been over a month since I updated. Hope it's worth it!
1. Driving Hard

**The Guilty Party**

Summary: How could something so normal do so much damage to the Winchesters?

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah

_Author's note: This is going to be a short story, probably not any longer than 4 or 5 chapters. I got this idea in my head today and had to write it down... hope you like it. Please R&R!_

**Chapter One: Driving Hard**

"Dean, please let me drive."

"Dude, there is no way I'm letting you drive my baby." Dean glanced at his little brother in the seat next to him, slightly slurring his words.

"Dean. You've had a few too many tonight. You shouldn't be driving."

"Sam. I've driven with a few more in me when I had a lot less tolerance. Stop being such a whiny bitch already." Sam slumped back in his seat, silent but still worried. He glanced at his brother, happy that at least he was wearing a seatbelt. Sam sighed, facing forward again. _He's still an idiot._

"Sammy, you gotta let loose sometimes. Stop being so uptight all the time."

Sam shook his head, disgusted with his brother like he always was when Dean drank more than he should. "Dean, just because I don't try to stick my hand up every skirt I see and down every drink in 30 seconds flat doesn't mean I don't let loose sometimes."

"Oh yeah? When's the last time you got laid?" Dean grinned at his brother, knowing it hadn't been anytime soon and the torturing was fun. The car took a right turn a little fast, making Sam brace himself against the door.

"Dean, will you please pay attention to the fucking- DEAN!"

The 18-wheeler slammed into the Impala's side, forcing the door into the brother's side. The breaks screeched as the truck driver tried to stop his monster machine. Unfortunately, it took more road for the truck to stop than the street allowed. The car was slammed into a store window, ripping beams from the ceiling and shattering glass over the car.

The silence which followed was penetrated only by the store's burglary alarm.

_Author's Note: Hope you like it! Please please please R&R. Even bad reviews give good advice. :)_


	2. The Aftershock

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah

_Previously, on Supernatural:_

_The 18-wheeler slammed into the Impala's side, forcing the door into the brother's side. The breaks screeched as the truck driver tried to stop his monster machine. Unfortunately, it took more road for the truck to stop than the street allowed. The car was slammed into a store window, ripping beams from the ceiling and shattering glass over the car._

_The silence which followed was penetrated only by the store's burglary alarm._

**Chapter 2: The Aftershock**

Dean could feel his consciousness flickering in and out, only half-aware of his situation. A wave of pain hit him straight on as the shock of the accident left his body. Clenching his jaw in a silent cry, he pried his eyes open, blinking against the bright lights. Hearing someone approach his door, he tried turning his head, only to receive a jolt of pain down his spine.

"Anyone alive in there?" A strange voice called out. A pair of hands appeared on the hood of the car, followed by the trucker's face.

Dean cringed, trying to move his jaw. A small "help" escaped his lips. The trucker's eyes widened. "Hang on, I'll call 911." He disappeared out of sight.

Dean closed his eyes. Every inch of his body hurt. _I guess Sammy-boy was right. I shouldn't have… SAMMY!_ Dean's eyes snapped open. He twisted his neck to the passenger side, ignoring the pain. There he was, leaning against the spider cracked window with a bit of blood from Sam's temple smeared across the glass.

"Sam. Sammy, wake up." Dean croaked, his throat raw. Sam didn't move. Something was wrong, other than the obvious situation of the car accident.

Dean's eyes widened. _Since when does Sam sleep with his eyes open?_ Dean risked a glance at his brother's chest. Nothing. No movement. He wasn't breathing.

"No… no. Sam, NO!" Dean's rage broke through the pain. He grappled with the seatbelt, finally clicking it off, tried scooting himself over to his brother's seat. The pain was overwhelming;he saw stars dance before his eyes, but still he reached for his little brother.

"Come on Sam, wake up." Dean's hands shook as he pulled Sam's limp form over, holding him against his shoulder. "Sam, please. That's an order, damn it!" Sam's glossy eyes stared out into space. "Sam please. Please! Come back." A tear ran down Dean's face, landing on his brother's cheek, forging a trail through the blood on his face.

"Sam, I'm sorry. Sam, I'm so sorry… so sorry… so sorry…" Dean repeated, unaware he was rocking his brother just like he did when they were children and Sam had had a bad dream.

"Son, can you move?" Dean looked to his door, blinking through the tears. A man stood there with the letters EMT on his jacket. _Help. He can help._

"My… my brother. He… he hit his head and he's not… He told me to let him drive… he told me…" Dean's vision began to fade.

"Son, stay with me now." The EMT climbed into the Impala's front seat through the window. He checkedDean'sneck and chest for obvious injuries."What's your name, son?" He put his fingers to Sam's neck.

"Dean. But his name is Sam." Dean looked at his face, hopeful the man could feel something he couldn't.

The EMT looked at Dean. "Okay Dean. I'm going to put your neck in this brace to make sure you don't have a spinal injury, okay? We gotta move him first though. I have to be able to work on you." The EMT started to pull Sam away, making Dean hold onto him all the tighter.

"No, no. My brother. You have to help Sammy. He… he's bleeding." Dean finished lamely. His vision was starting to go again, but still he held onto the body. _The body. No, no, no, not the body Dean. Not the body. HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT DEAN!_

"Dean." The EMT's voice cut through the darkness. He could feel something pulling on his arms. "Dean, you have to let go now. We have to help you."

"No… don't want… need help… him… my fault." Dean felt his body being lifted away. The blissful darkness finally came.

_Remember, R&R makes the stories better! Please review, even if it is just to say "I hate it" :)_


	3. Not Believing

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah.

_Author's Note:Thanks so much for all the reviews! They really do help. I know the last two chapters were really short, but this one is muchlonger. Hope everyone enjoys it!_

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Pain woke him. Dean opened his eyes to bright lights and people standing over him. There was nothing but pain and the pressure of people pulling on his body. He started to panic, flailing his arms around.

"Where's Sammy? Where's my brother?" Dean screamed, jumping almost half way off the emergency room table before the doctors pulled him back on. "If you took him, I will kill you! I WILL KILL YOU!"

"I need restraints over here, stat! Dean felt his arms and legs being pulled down tightly by the leather straps. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. _I'm no good to Sammy if I panic. And hyperventilating hurts too much right now._ He slowly pulled on his wrists, testing the strength. He could hear his body shaking against the bed, the metal of the restraints clinking against the side bars.

"Dean, I need you to look at me now." Dean blinked, finding the source of the voice to his right. A doctor's head looked above him, smiling grimly.

"Where's Sam?" Dean whispered, as if afraid to be overheard.

"Was he the young man in the car with you?" Dean nodded. The doctor glanced at a nurse for a split second before looking down again. "I'm not sure where he is right now." The doctor was a horrible liar. But, as a doctor, he always tried to keep the bad news until after the patient was out of immediate danger. Unfortunately, being lied to was not what Dean wanted right now.

"You tell me where he is! You son of a bitch! You tell me!" Dean ripped at his restraints, fury and blood love fueling his aching body. He had more upper body strength than the doctors had thought. He heard something snap in the left arm, but kept flailing, desperate to wake up from this nightmare.

"Damn it, he broke his wrist on the restraint. I need a sedative now!" Dean's wild eyes saw the needle approaching, making him break out in a panic sweat.

"No, no, no, no please. Just give me Sammy back. Please." He felt a twinge of pain, quickly followed by a heavy blanket of sleep. "Please Sammy… I'm sorry."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

John Winchester ran into the hospital room, an almost maternal need to see his children overriding all other feelings, even the grief. He had just spoken to the doctor. _Dean doesn't know yet._ He looked at his son lying in the bed, covered in bruises. It wasn't anything new to see his son injured, but to know that it wasn't the results of a job made tears fill his eyes. Making sure his son wasn't conscious, he walked into the bathroom, needing a moment alone to collect himself. After a minute, he heard Dean rustle his bed sheets, beginning to wake. John hurried to his side, taking his hand. "Dean?"

"Sammy?" Dean winced at the sound of his voice, grating against his own ears. He turned his head toward his father, still unable to open his eyes.

"Dean, its Dad." Dean eyes snapped open and quickly scanned the room.

"Where's Sam? Is he okay? They wouldn't let me stay with him at the car. Dad, I think he might have a concussion." Dean rattled off the questions, oblivious to his father's expression of pain. "You gotta find him. He'll be scared to be alone." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And don't trust the doctors."

"Dean. Sammy… He…" _Just tell him. Winchesters tell it how it is. It's better to find out sooner than later._ "Sam didn't make it. He…" The tears started to well up again. "He died in the car."

Dean's round eyes stared at his father without expression. He blinked as if to wake from a dream. "No Dad, Sammy's hurt. He hit his head." He started pulling on his sheets, not knowing why he felt so wrong. "You should go check on him. So he doesn't worry."

John grabbed his shoulders, forcing Dean to look him in the eye. "Dean. Sam's dead. He isn't hurt, he's dead."

Realization hit Dean like a load of bricks. "No." Faster than John would have thought, he was out of the bed, stumbling into the hallway. He grabbed a passing nurse with his good arm, using her to support his body of screaming pain. "Samuel Winchester. I need to see him. What room?" He gasped, sweat running down his face in the effort to battle the pain in his back and legs.

"Dean!" John appeared in the doorway, moving to help the startled nurse. "It's okay Dean."

"No! You are lying!" Dean was bordering on hysterical. Faintly, he could hear a page for security over the hospital intercom. "Get away from me! YOU AREN'T TELLING ME THE TRUTH!" Doctors and police officers started to surround the young man, aware his mental state was slipping. Dean could barely stand; the pain was so much. Panic started setting in again. All he had left was his hunting instincts. He couldn't allow himself to be surrounded. The cast on his wrist was heavy. He could use it against them. They should have let him see Sammy.

In one last effort, he lunged at a doctor, trying to break through the human barrier. He hadn't moved more than a step before he fell to the floor, a combination of his legs giving out and the security guard grabbing him from behind. "NO! LET ME SEE SAMMY!" He started throwing punches, hitting anything that came within his reach. Feeling a pinch, he saw the needle enter his shoulder and darkness engulfed once again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

John sat once again in his son's hospital room, his head in his hands. He hadn't moved in almost an hour, but was hardly aware of it. _What happened?_ He had always entrusted Dean to watch out for his little brother. But something had gotten through; something had attacked them in that car and now… John shook his head, unable to even think the words. His eyes popped open and his head lifted as his son started shifting in the bed. He leaned over, placing his hand on the bed to alert the boy to his presence.

"Sammy?" John winced, pushing back tears that he didn't realize were there.

"No Dean. It's Dad. I'm here. It's going to be alright." Dean slowly opened his eyes, fighting against the sedative. "Dean, you have to stay calm now, okay?"

Dean barely acknowledged his father's presence as his eyes scanned the room. "Where's Sam?" Dean pulled himself up, or at least he tried. His eyes widened at the sight of the restraints around his arms, one extra wide to accommodate for the cast on his wrist. "Dad, what's going on?" His eyes burned into his father's, demanding an answer.

John sighed. "Dean, you are being restrained because this isn't the first time you've woken up since the crash." Dean blinked in confusion. "The accident was yesterday Dean. Now, you've got some bad injuries to your back and you need to heal."

"Dad, tell me what the hell is going on right now." His body began to shake in anger.

"Dean, every time you've woken up, you started attacking people. The doctors were afraid you would hurt yourself even more, or someone else." John paused, pulling himself together. _Did he really not remember the dozen times I've told him this?_ "Every time I tell you, you lose it. Now I need you to stay with me this time and tell me what you remember from the accident. The police have questions. They are investigating the cause of the crash and I need to know what we are dealing with. A poltergeist? Demon? What?"

"Dad. What do you keep telling me?" A tear fell onto John's cheek, the pain of telling his son again almost unbearable.

"Sammy's dead, Dean." John closed his eyes, preparing for the on slaughter of screams and fury. Nothing came. John looked at his remaining son. Dean stared ahead, appearing catatonic until he whispered, "I remember. It's my fault."

John grabbed his shoulders. "It is not your fault. There is no way you could have stopped whatever it was that got into your car." Dean turned and looked at his father with an expression of dawning recollection.

"Dad, it was me." A tear fell from his eye. "We had just come from a bar. I… I thought I was okay to drive." John slowly retracted his hands from his son as he understood what he was saying. "Sam told me… but we were having a good night… I don't…" John stood, looming over the hospital bed. His words punctured the air like darts.

"You were driving drunk with Sammy in the car with you!" He didn't even realize he was screaming into Dean's face. "You were supposed to protect him, not kill him!" John leaned over his helpless son, his hands strangling dead air. "How could you be so stupid Dean!"

The tears were flowing freely from Dean now. "Dad, please." He could barely get the words out. "I didn't mean to. Please Dad."

John's fury shot through his eyes as he glared at his son. _I can't deal with this. Not right now._ Without another word, John Winchester turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Dean stared at his father's back. "Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't… It's my fault… I wasn't strong… DAD, DON'T LEAVE ME!" Dean screamed, unable to follow his remaining family. John turned the corner, leaving his only son tied to the bed.

_I felt a bit ackward writing for John in this chapter, mostly because I wrote this before Dead Man's Blood aired, so we didn't have much of his character shown on the show. I tried my best, but I think he comes off a bit harsher than I originally meant to... but after DMB, it seems like John was kinda short with the boys, so I guess it works. __Tell me what you think! R&R is always appreciated. I'll update when I can (I'm moving out of my apartment this week, so probably not for a while)._


	4. The Real Story

_Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah. oooo, but if I did..._

Dean sat by his window, hands limp in his lap. The wheelchair squeaked slightly as he adjusted himself in the seat. It had been 24 hours since his father had left him. 24 hours since he found out his brother was dead. _No, don't think that yet._ He had spoken to the doctors, convincing them his freaking out in the ER was just something like momentary insanity. A combination of the accident and the news of his brother was just too much at once. _Doctors are so stupid._ He had been lucid… just really pissed off.

They had said something about "bad back injury" and "eventual physical therapy". Now he was stuck in a frickin' wheelchair until his back healed. The anger flared up once again in his chest. _I shouldn't be here._

Hearing a cough behind him, he turned his head to find a man in police uniform in the doorway. He was tall, all business. He carried a large black duffle bag that looked strangely familiar.

"Dean Winchester?" Dean stared. The officer took it as a yes. "I'm Officer McGlough. I've been investigating the accident involving the truck driver and yourself."

_And Sam._ Dean turned his wheelchair a bit more toward the officer. He placed his hands back into his lap.

"Yeah, ummm… how is he?" he asked stupidly, unable to think of anything else to say, much less anything concerning that last thought echoing in his mind.

"He's fine, just a concussion." Dean nodded. _Lucky bastard._ "I'm aware your brother was in the crash and didn't survive." The officer said gently, lowering himself into a nearby chair.

Dean lowered his eyes, not wanting to let the officer see the tears begin to fill his eyes. _I can't deal with this right now. This is too much._

"It was my fault."

"I'm sorry?" Dean looked up. A tear finally breaking away from his eye and made its way down his cheek.

"The accident was my fault, officer. We… I had been drinking. I didn't think I was… impaired." Dean stared at the officer, certain he would start spewing him his rights and slap some cuffs on him for his brother's murder at any moment. _I am a murderer._

"Son, I don't think you understand. We've already closed the investigation." The man sighed in almost a fake concerned way. "The truck driver told us he fell asleep at the wheel. He woke up just before running a red light and hitting you."

Dean swallowed the lump in this throat, trying to understand the words he had just heard. "He was… I didn't…"

The officer smiled grimly. "And your blood alcohol was tested when you came in… Standard procedure. You were under the limit." He stood, his business finish. "I just thought… I thought you would want closure… for your brother."

Dean nodded, feeling numb from the shock. He saw the bag the officer had been holding being placed on his bed. He finally recognized it.

"There were things we recovered from the car. This is it, I'm afraid." Instinct kicked in and Dean's mind began to race. _Can't be the weapons… unless this cop is buckets of crazy._ A half-grin flashed across his lips. _Dad._ Dean nodded and turned his chair, looking the officer in the eye for the first time.

"Thanks." The officer nodded and walked out, leaving Dean to his thoughts and grief.

Dean stared at the bag, looming on his bed like a black mark of pain and failure. He lifted his hands, prepared to wheel over to the bed. _Not yet._

Dean flipped on his phone and dialed his father's number. The rings pierced his brain, but still he waited, not knowing what he was going to say. His breath caught as he heard a click, followed by his father's voice.

"Dean."

"Dad." His voice caught.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you." Dean nodded, afraid to open his mouth for fear of letting out the sob of grief growing in his chest. He could hear his father sigh.

"I talked to the police. Dean… I… I was wrong to act like that. I am so sorry. I just couldn't…"

Dean sat, trying to absorb what was just said. The silence held for a few seconds.

"Dean?"

Finally, he found his voice. "Dad, where are you?"

Silence. "I'm… uhhh… I'm at the morgue." Dean closed his eyes, wishing he could take the question back. "I had to… id and… claim Sammy's… body." Dean nodded, silently thankful he was wheelchair bound so he couldn't do that particular task.

"I'll… I'll talk to you later, Dad. We have to… make arrangements."

"Alright. I'll see you soon Dean. Bye."

He clicked the phone shut, his mind finally catching up to what he just said. _I should tell Sam's friends. Should I call? Who… I don't even know who they would be_. He realized dimly. _I don't know what he would want. We never talked about this._ Dean silently cursed himself._ Like I would ever have let him talk about it._

Dean looked back at his bed. The bag loomed. _Bitch bag think it can scare me._ _If you weren't a just bag, I'd kick your ass. Oh fuck it._

He turned the chair, thrusting it toward the bed, coming close to slamming his knees into the side. He grabbed the bag with his good wrist and threw it onto a chair, making it be waist high and to stop its stupid threats. He ripped open the zipper, revealing the other survivors of the crash. Dean stared, the anger suddenly deflating at the sight. Slowly, he reached in a grabbed the first thing to touch his hand. A shirt. Sammy's. A smile tugged on his lip corner as he saw the few blood drops and tears on the hem. _Which one of our battles ruined this shirt, little brother?_ He pulled the fabric to his face, closing his eyes. The faint sweet smell of his brother filled his senses. Vanilla with a slight dusty library, almost like old leather bound books. It fit him. It was him. A memory flooded his mind.

"_Come on Sam!" Dean pulled his four year old brother by the hand._

"_No! I don't wanna!" Sam pulled back, trying desperately to stay in the bathtub._

"_Sam, your bath is over. The water's cold and you're all wrinkled." Sam looked at his hands and started laughing._

"_Deanie, my skin looks funny." Dean used the distraction as the moment to pull his little brother up and out of the tub. He started rubbing him dry with a towel. He would never admit it, but he loved bath-time with Sammy. It was relaxing, in a brotherly bonding kind of way. It was routine, but nothing as strict as training. It was… normal._

"_You always look funny, Sammy. I just didn't want to say anything." Before Sam could run down the hall butt naked like he always tried to do, Dean wrapped his brother in the towel, locking his arms next to his body. He tucked the towel corner into itself, sealing the wrap. Sam look up at his brother, laughing. "There we go. Now you're a sausage."_

"_You're funny Dean-bean."_

"_Yeah, I know Sam-bam." Dean grabbed his brother, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as Sam squealed with glee._

Dean shivered, suddenly chilled. This was definitely not what he wanted to be thinking about right now; his little brother who could be remember as a child, but would never be as an old man.

"I'm so sorry." Dean whispered to the empty room.

"You should be." Wait. Empty rooms don't talk. Dean whipped his head up. Their eyes met. He stood not two feet away from Dean's chair. Dean's eyes widened. Sam.

"Boo."

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_Hope you liked it! I thought making Dean responsible for Sam's death was a bit harsh… he's in enough pain.:) The memory flashback is an actualone of mine (my little sister and I are also 4 years apart) and I thought it would be sweet in a sad way. The next chapter is written, just touching it up. Be patient… it's worth it. Please R&R cause it keeps me inspired!_


	5. Payback

**The Guilty Party**

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah. But if I did, oh boy...

_Previously on Supernatural:_

_"I'm so sorry." Dean whispered to the empty room._

_"You should be." Wait. Empty rooms don't talk. Dean whipped his head up. Their eyes met. He stood not two feet away from Dean's chair. Sam._

_"Boo."_

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**Chapter 5: Payback**

Dean gasped and pushed his chair back. _Sam. I knew it. I knew you were alive. Those lying bastards… how could…_ Dean looked again, the initial shock quickly wearing off. But it wasn't Sam. His Sam wasn't pale as… well, death. His Sam didn't have deep dark circles under his eyes. Nothing alive could have those eyes.

"No. You're not him." Dean cried out, too bewildered by the appearance of his brother to remember he was in a hospital with very open doorways.

"Oh yes, I am." Sam's image flickered slightly as he walked across the room. The few seconds of viewing Sam's decaying insides was enough to make Dean want to gag. "You see Dean, this is your fault. You killed me, but not just with that beautiful car crash. You killedwhat I could have hadwhen Jess died. I could have been married. I could have been happy."

Without warning, Sam was leaning his face into Dean's, only a few inches from his nose.

"But you kept me from that." Dean tried to push his wheelchair back, the stench of his brother's dead body overcoming his senses. But he couldn't move; something holding him and the chair still. Dean began to panic. _It's not Sammy. It's not…_

"Why?" Dean's voice cracked, never taking his eyes away from the horrible imitation of his baby brother. He cleared his throat, trying to sound stronger than he felt. "Why are you haunting me, Sam?"

Sam's eyes squinted. Suddenly, Dean's body flew out of the wheelchair, slamming into a wall. He could have collapsed if an unseen force wasn't holding him up. He grunted as pain flared across his back. Sam flickered, walking around to Dean again. The lights flickered and a sharp wind was coming from nowhere, whipping the hair around the brother's faces.

"Dean. We have hunted enough pissed off spirits for you to know we hardly need a reason." Sam grinned, his teeth stained with blood. A small crimson trail began to flow out of his mouth. "And I am one pissed off spirit Dean."

_No. No, that's not right._ Dean gasped for breath, his eyes darting to the doorway, seeing a quick flicker of movement. _Why wasn't anyone coming to help? Okay Dean, think. Distract him. Maybe someone will walk by. Just keep him talking._

"No, they… you… those things always have a reason. They always want something." Dean paused, quickly coming to the realization. "And what you want I can't give you, little brother. You couldn't save Jess and you think I made that happen."

Sam snarled, blood flickering from his mouth. "What I WANT, dear brother, is for you to pay. To suffer. Like I suffered every damn day since Mom and Jess died." He stared intently at Dean. The pressure on Dean's chest increased, making it feel like his back would snap at any moment. "You pulled me from both of those fires Dean. Why didn't you just let me die then? No, you had to wait until now, when I would suffer the most. After months of nightmares, of doing nothing but hunt. I tried to get away from that, but you. You pulled back in. And now, I'm burning forever."

Sam squinted again. Dean gasped as he realized he couldn't breathe. The pain in his back was quickly becoming a tingling numbness. Spots began to dance in front of his eyes.

"Dean!" Dean strained his eyes open, turning his head toward the new voice. In the doorway stood his savior. John. In his right hand was a shotgun pointed straight at Sam's chest. Sam whirled around, flickering slighting. His eyes became slits at the sight of the gun.

"Hello John." John's jaw clenched at the sadistic tone his son's voice had. _When did his son's eyes become so sad? Maybe it only happens after death. God, I hope so. _He tightened the grip on the gun and took a step forward.

"Let him go, Sammy." His eyes glanced at Dean who was almost unconscious against the wall.

"Or what Dad? You'll shoot me?" Sam snickered. "We're in a hospital genius. You can't go firing weapons without attracting some attention. Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Sam flickered once more, the anger pulsing out of his eyes. "Oh wait. Yes, you do think I'm that stupid. You and Dean have always thought I was helpless. Poor little Sammy. Can't even protect himself. Well guess what Dad." Suddenly, he stood in front of the gun, pressing his chest against the barrel. "I can now."

John's body flew across the room, landing next to Dean. The shotgun clamored to the floor, now useless. Sam grinned, an evil giggle escaping his bleeding lips. Slowly, as if to punctuate what he was doing, Sam reached down and grasped the gun. Settling it on his hip, he stood, smirking.

"Huh. Look how the tables have turned. Oh Deanie, time to wake up. You can't miss this." Dean's head snapped to the side as if slapped powerfully across the face. Groggily, he opened his eyes, squirming slightly at the sight of his father pinned next to him.

"There we go. Up and at 'em, big brother!" The sadistic humor left Sam's face as he leveled the shotgun at his family.

"Sam." John stared at his son. No, not his son. This was just a spirit, a manifestation of something evil that his innocent little Sammy could never house. He glanced at the doorway. Sam turned, following his line of vision and with a smirk, closed the door gently. The click of the lock made John groan. "Sam, stop this."

"Shut up Dad. You've missed out on too much of my life to tell me what to do." He turned to John, smirking. "You've missed so much. And it was hardly daisies and chocolate kisses. We never told you about our little adventure in Ellicott's mental asylum, did we? You never knew that I shot Dean with a loaded gun, huh?" John glanced at Dean, trying to find the lie, praying it wasn't true. Dean simply watched Sam, his face filled with horror and embarrassment.

Sam began to pace across the hospital room, his image flickering again. Now he was really getting into it. "Granted, it was filled with rock salt, but it still hurt like a bitch, right Dean-boy?" Dean grimaced, unwilling to answer. Sam's image flickered, the anger pushing through his voice. "Come on Dean. I know you can still talk. I didn't hurt you that much. So you finally don't have anything to say, huh? No smart comeback or quirky one-liner? Maybe if I fill your chest with salt again, you'll start talking. We both know what happens when your chest is hit with rock salt. I wonder what would happen if I aimed for your face." Sam fingered the trigger, threateningly.

"Sammy." Dean gasped, trying desperately to gather breath. "This isn't you. Please Sam."

"No Dean. I think this is me." Sam began to pace once more, his finger itching to take out his anger. "Remember what I said about the little girl in the painting? The job in New York with Sara? Some people are just born tortured. This spirit, my spirit is just as dark as I was. I just never let my true nature come out. Just because I never acted on impulse like sweet Melanie did, doesn't mean I didn't want to. Ellicott possessing me was when I could really act out my feelings that I had always had but could never reveal. Cause I always had to be good, little Sammy. Poor Sammy who couldn't fight for himself. Poor Sammy who couldn't save Jess."

Bloody tears began to fall down Sam's cheeks, the flickering increasing. Suddenly, he stopped, standing completely still. He looked up, resolve in his eyes.

"Enough monologuing, as you would say dear brother. Time to feel some pain."

Like the hunter he was trained to be, Sam raised the gun, aiming it straight at Dean's face. A grin crossed his face as he pulled the trigger.

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_I know this has taken forever to be posted and I'm super sorry! This is kind of a filler chapter so it doesn't feel like my best work. I promise the next chapter will be coming soon and it will be worth the wait. My life has been beyond crazy, but now I have a bit more time to fulfill my obsession. :) Please R&R cause it keeps me inspired!_


	6. Reunion

**The Guilty Party**

Summary: How could something so normal do so much damage to the Winchesters?

Disclaimer: blah blah blah, I don't own them, blah blah blah.

_A/N: Soooooo sorry it has taken so long with this chapter. A million thanks for those who waited. This chapter feels a little weird (at least to me anyway), so don't worry about offending me when reviewing... It just feels a bit off. I think I'm dealing with Sammy a bit harshly (is that a word) :). So please enjoy and R&R is always appreciated!_

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_Previously on Supernatural:_

_Bloody tears began to fall down Sam's cheeks, the flickering increasing. Suddenly, he stopped, standing completely still. He looked up, resolve in his eyes._

_"Enough monologuing, as you would say dear brother. Time to feel some pain."_

_Like the hunter he was trained to be, Sam raised the gun, aiming it straight at Dean's face. A grin crossed his face as he pulled the trigger._

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**Chapter 6: Reunion**

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"NOOOOOOO!" Dean could barely hear John's scream over the blood rushing through his ears. _The salt would begin to burn any moment… any second now… uuhhhhh…_ Dean pried one eye open, but shot both eyes as wide as he could at the sight before him.

Floating a few inches off the ground were two forms directly in front of himself and his father, almost like they were protecting them. They looked human, their hair flowed in a slight breeze and they seemed to give off a radiant light that could only be described as heavenly. _Great… a couple more Caspers to deal with._ Dean blinked, almost doing a double take. _But there's something…_ Dean's eyes widened even more, although they were already threatening to pop out of his skull. _It can't be._ A sob came from Dean's side. Twisting his aching neck, Dean saw his father, his eyes just as wide.

"Mary." John's whisper could barely be heard. "My God… I never…"

One of the women turned, revealing her angelic face. She stared at her husband for a moment before placing a finger on her lips, signaling him to be silent. She turned again to face her youngest son.

Sam was just as shocked as everyone else, his finger a hairsbreadth from pulling the trigger enough to have the gun go off. His breath -_Why is he breathing? He's dead!- _hitched at the sight of the two women before him, but halted all together when he recognized the woman next to his mother. He had only seen her every night in his dreams for the past year.

"Jess."

The angle smiled. "Sam."

"Why are you…"

"To help you Sam." She said firmly. "You are making a mistake and I won't let you do this. You aren't doing this out of love, sweetie. You are doing this out of hatred for yourself."

"No baby. I'm doing this for you." Sam faced lost a bit of anger, pain filtering thru his eyes.

"Sam, I don't want you to do this. We don't want to have to stop you."

"But he killed you!" Sam screamed, the gun wavering slightly, but still pointed in Dean's direction. Bloody tears began to flow once more. His red eyes flashed between his brother and the woman he loved, unsure of who he was trying to fight.

"He has to die." Fluidly, he raised the gun once more, aiming it straight at Dean.

"NO!" The two women's voices sounded as one. With a crack that made the air tingle as if electrified, Sam was thrown backward, slamming against the floor. The gun slid across the floor, out of reach.

Dean's mouth hung open, not entirely sure what he was witnessing. _Am I really watching a spirit smack down? And by Mom no less._

Apparently, Sam was thinking the same thing. He stared at his mother, pain radiating from his angry eyes.

"Bitch!" The word flew from his mouth as he struggled to get to his feet. His attention turned to Jessica. A sneer twisted his bloody lips. "I'm doing this for you, you ungrateful whore."

Neither woman even flinched, completely unfaised by the boy's words. "Samuel." Unlike his mother, Sam could not hear her words without recoiling slightly. "This is not you. You are not a tortured soul. You were not born one. We're going to help you."

With another crack, Jessica and Mary appeared directly in front of Sam. Each placed a hand on the boy's head and staring into his eyes, they began to mumble.

Dean strained his ears, trying to hear what the women were saying. Glancing at his father John gave a slight shake of his head, not being able to hear either. Dean closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness passed through his unmoving body. The pain in his back had been momentarily forgotten; mostly because of the guest appearance of his mother who he was sure had been lost after the exorcism in Lawrence. Now the pain was back tenfold and threatened to take Dean into unconsciousness.

John did a double glance at Dean, finally taking in his son's pale face and labored breathing. He looked back, finding his wife still chanting. "Hurry Mary." John whispered.

The two spirits continued to mumble, the incantation beginning to work. Sam's face twisted in pain and effort to move in anyway against the two powerful women. Without warning, they stopped. Sam immediately wrenched his head away, diving for the forgotten gun. He stood quickly, gun in hand and evil fury back in his eye. John glanced at his wife, his eyes filled with worry. That gun had rock salt and he would be damn if he let his dead son shoot his wife's spirit, repealing her away. Mary, however, looked surprisingly calm.

Sam walked back over to the two men, gun pointed at their chests. He let out a short laugh. "I don't know what voodoo you just tried on me, but nice try. See ya."

The gun fell. Sam looked down. _What? No._ He bent to pick it up once more, eyes widening as his hand passed right thru the weapon. He began punching his arms wildly, trying desperately to have some effect on the unmoving weapon.

John stared in amazement. _Did I just witness an Encontra Spiritus spell?_ He had heard of an incantation that which could affect spirits, but not as a banishing or exorcism. It had never been quite clear as to what it did or to whom. Supposable it was an undoable spell, or at least John had never heard of it being used successfully. _Apparently not for spirits when they use it against other spirits. That must be why it's called an Encontra spell, you genius._

John's thoughts were cut short as he felt the pressure that had been holding him against the wall begin to fade and his back slowly slid down. A cry of pain pulled his attention to his side, where Dean was quickly falling in a painful heap on the floor. John lunged over, lowering his son the rest of the way down as gently as possible. He cursed silently at the heat radiating from Dean's skin and how hard he was breathing. His eyes were fluttering as he tried to hold onto consciousness _He was in a car crash barely a day ago, John, and you just let a spirit – right a spirit, not his own brother- attack him._ His self berating stopped as his attention was pulled once more by another cry, this one from his other son.

Sam fell to his knees, his head hanging down. His hands had been out in front of him, obviously trying to hold his family against the hospital wall again, but having no affect. They dropped into his lap, bloody tears landing on his palms. He raised his eyes, starting at his father holding a half unconscious Dean on the floor.

"I hate to sound so 'superhero-arch-nemesis', but I'll be back." With a crack, he disappeared with only a wisp of smoke left behind. The spirit of Jessica sighed. She turned to the Winchesters, sympathy in her eyes. "I'll find him." With another crack, she too disappeared.

The silence was deafening.

John was pulled back to reality as he felt Dean slide a bit more off his lap, finally beginning to succumb to the pain.

"Come on son. Let's get you a bit more comfortable." With surprising ease, John lifted Dean in his arms and carried him to the hospital bed, trying to be as gentle as possible. John looked questioningly at his son, noticing he was staring off into the room and not at him, almost as if in a trance.

"Dean?"

"She's still here" he whispered. John turned, finding his wife floating silently behind him. Her eyes met John's. _Oh Mary._ He felt a pressure on his palm, finding her hand gently squeezing his, her eyes filled with sympathy. John felt the walls he had spent years erecting fall in but a few seconds. He eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Mary" he sobbed, his voice hitching. "I've missed you so much." His wife smiled.

"John." John kept talking, unable to stop the flow of words now that the flood gates had opened.

"I've been a horrible father Mary. I've put them in danger too many times. I couldn't… I couldn't look at them without seeing you. And now… now Sammy's dead and Dean's hurt again. I c-can't… I can't put us back together again Mary. I can't…" John hung his head, unable to look her in the eye.

"John." Mary pulled her husband's head up, forcing him to look her in the eye. Everything he ever needed was there in the depth of her soul. "You did fine." Mary smiled again, looking over to Dean. He was practically radiating with pain, but she could still feel the questions, the worries he had. She grasped his hand knowingly. "I'll take care of Sammy now. He'll be fine." She paused, knowing she didn't have a lot of time left. But the need in her son's eyes broke her heart.

"I love you, Dean. I couldn't have asked for a better son. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before." Mary leaned in, brushing a kiss against Dean's forehead, just like she would when he was three. It was too much for Dean. A sob burst from his lips, tears falling from his eyes. _Please Mom. Don't leave me again._

A wind began to blow, just enough to make their hair ripple slightly. Mary sighed. _Time to go. Never enough time._ Slowly, Mary's image began to fade. Dean and John stared, knowing this would be the last time they saw her. As she twinkled out, the Winchesters were left with her smile, beaming proudly at her family.

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_I know this has taken forever to be posted and I'm super sorry! My life has been beyond crazy, (my computer crashed, so I lost everything… had to start from scratch.) For everyone who has been waiting patiently, a million thank you's and hopefully, this chapter was worth the wait. It doesn't feel like my strongest work, but it'll have to do. I'm thinking one more chapter and I'll put this one to bed… it was originally going to be a two or three chapter thing, but I guess it kinda ran away from me. :) Please R&R cause it keeps me inspired and my muse has been very lazy recently._


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